Don't Let Go
by BlackMasquerade
Summary: The gruesome murder of a Lieutenant kidnapped from the Enterprise leads Ensign Chekov to find the one person who seems to matter most. Spock, however has his eye trained on the young woman as well. AU no prior Spock/Uhura. Chekov/OC/Spock. Enjoy!
1. Saving Lieutenant Roosevelt

Away missions had always fascinated Ensign Pavel Chekov. The thought of exploring something new was so... awe inspiring. But _this_ away mission... not so much.

Today's mission consisted of going to the surface of Salthasia, a recently discovered planet, to find one Lieutenant Xavier Roosevelt, who'd been UA for nearly six days. Anyone being UA on a Starship is odd business to begin with, but considering the recent anomalies occurring around the ship, this Lieutenant missing was only the icing on the proverbial cake. Computers had been reading odd patterns in the atmosphere surrounding the ship, i.e. that something was actually surrounding the ship save space, presences and absences that didn't seem to actually be occurring. For instance, on the bridge nearly a week and a half ago the computer had alerted the Captain that Hikaru Sulu had disappeared from the ship. When the Captain looked to Sulu's seat, there he was; facing the Captain back with a confused look on his face.

The Lieutenant's actual disappearance was only finally noted two days ago, when the crew finally realized that _his_ disappearance had actually occurred.

Now, Ensign Chekov, Commander Spock and Captain Kirk were standing on the transporter pad awaiting transportation to the surface.

"All ready, Cap'n?" Scotty asked getting ready to transport them.

"All ready, Scotty, beam us down." Kirk replied.

"All right then, here we go. Good luck." Scotty said as the three men dissolved from the room.

****

The three officers re-materialized moments later on a second transporter pad in a Salthasian Government building. Once they had their bearings back from the journey, they looked up to meet the onyx eyes of a Salthasian ambassador.

The Salthasian species was beautiful. Strong and terrifying, but beautiful. The temples of the face were accentuated as were the cheekbones: each forming a line of bone protruding under the skin. The temple bone curved down next to the eyes to meet the cheekbones; then the combined line moved down to the jaw bone and ran along becoming less and less apparent until finally it connected into a human looking chin. Like humans their blood was iron-based, so their skin has a red tinge to it. They each had a set of onyx eyes and a mane of moss coloured hair. The men wore it pulled back with what looked to be a leather cord, the women wore it down with a circlet embellishing the crowns of their heads. Each of the men were strongly built, much like American football or hockey players. Each of the woman were strongly built as well, with soft curves and muscular frames.

The ambassador outstretched his arms gracefully. "Welcome."

"Thanks." Kirk said simply, stunned by the beauty of the female Salthasian behind the ambassador.

"You have come in search of a missing crew member, yes?" The ambassador continued, aware of, but ignoring Kirk's obvious infatuation with his female colleague.

"Uh..." Kirk stammered unblinkingly.

"Keptin!" Chekov elbowed his superior in the ribs to bring back to the present moment.

"Oh, uh, yeah, of course. Lieutenant Xavier Roosevelt." Kirk managed to collect his thoughts while massaging a now bruised rib.

"A human, I suppose?" The ambassador stated. His voice was calm and clear, much like Spock's, a defining feature of the species, Chekov remembered from his readings on the species. They were an adventurous people who formed their culture from aspects they found useful from other cultures. For instance, they had utlised the Vulcan approach to logic: they followed logical thought processes and based any and all actions on that very thought process while maintaining an emotional balance. Granted, the balance was closer to that of the Vulcan's rather than that of humans, but they did show some emotion.

"He is." Spock broke his silence to answer for the Captain, who's mind was falling back to the Salthasian woman.

"We haven't seen any _live_ humans on our planet since..." the ambassador said with a slightly lost tone in his voice.

"Amata." The woman finished in an alto tone which visibly placed goosebumps on each of the officers arms; had they not been wearing long sleeves, of course.

"Yes. Amata." The ambassador agreed.

"We should contact her, Ambassador. She may know something through the medical unit." The woman said smoothly, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps up the men's arms.

"Agreed."

"Who is Amata exactly?" Kirk broke his trance for a brief inquiry.

"Our chief Medical Examiner. She is human, like yourselves." The ambassador approached a computer console on the opposite side of the transporter room from the pad and created an audio connection with someone who, the men guessed, was Amata. "Amata?" The ambassador called through the audio link.

A feminine grunt came from the other side, then a sigh. Kirk raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, there we are. Yes, Ambassador?" The voice of a young woman came through the connection.

"Are you busy?" The ambassador asked.

"More or less, sir. I'm in the middle of the autopsy of the senator's nephew, that's what you were hearing just now, actually, his liver was being stubborn, didn't want to detatch itself from the body... quite a tragedy really, my preliminary findings would suggest..." she began a tangent that the whole room could sense wouldn't end soon.

"Amata, we need you to check something for us please, dear." The woman said approaching the computer console behind the ambassador.

"... and, oh. Yes, of course." The girl on the other end replied.

"Has a human crossed your table recently? Or the table of a colleague perhaps..?" The ambassador inquired.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I recall that autopsy. An unnamed human crossed the table maybe, four days past? Yes, a peculiar case, indeed. There was nothing physically wrong with his body… I ended up ruling it a subdural hematoma due to some minor bruising of the brain…"

"Are you still in possession of the body?" Kirk asked, interrupting another on coming tangent.

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

"I want to get my doc to have a look at it. And I'd like to see if it's my missing Lieutenant."

"Missing Lieutenant..? That's very interesting. Is your doctor here now? Mr..?"

"Captain James T. Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_." Kirk said proudly.

"A Starfleet vessel? My, my, I seem to be swimming in uncharted waters with this cadaver… I can have the body ready momentarily if you'd like to come over and have a look. I'll even run a second autopsy if you feel I've missed something." The girl said eagerly.

"That'd be just great. I'll get my doc in here though, if you don't mind." He didn't say it as though it were a question.

"I understand. Is he with you now?"

"No. But I can get him here."

"Sounds good. I await your arrival, Captain."

The connection went dead and Kirk picked his communicator from his pocket. "Bones." He said into the device.

"Yeah, Jim?" came the rather garbled reply. There was a huge amount of atmosphere between the two communicators, but the reception was not as bad as Kirk would have expected.

"I want you down here, we're gonna see if this body they've got is Lieutenant Roosevelt. I want you to help with the second autopsy if it is."

"Sure thing, Jim. I'll be right down." The connection broke and Kirk replaced his communicator in his pocket.

"We'll await his arrival, if you don't mind ambassador." Kirk said politely but again, it didn't sound like a suggestion.

"Of course." The ambassador replied.

The five proceeded to wait in silence. Chekov's eyes wandered the room, noting the subtle artistry of the room's architecture. It looked a lot like the interior of the _Enterprise_. The walls were metallic, a glass barrier stood between the computer terminal and the transporter pad. The doors looked to operate pneumatically. The transporter pad had six panels, one of which would soon be filled by the one and only Doctor Leonard McCoy.

Chekov rocked from the balls of his feet to the heels as the group waited in silence.

Suddenly the body of Doctor McCoy materialized before them. He stepped down from the panel and shook hands with the ambassador.

"At last." The Ambassador stated. "This way, please." He proceeded to follow the woman from the room into a series of hallways that looked just as similar to the ones on the _Enterprise_ as the transporter room did.

"Amata Gerald is the chief Medical Examiner for this sector of the government. She covers all high priority cases: inter-planetary crime, foreign cases, and the like. She is human, much like the majority of you. She is highly intelligent, but, once you meet her you will find my explanation to be somewhat… _inadequate_." The woman explained from the front of the group.

"I bet you that's what an angel sounds like." Doctor McCoy whispered in Kirk's ear.

"I don't doubt that for a second." Kirk replied.

The group reached a stair well and descended. At the bottom, the atmosphere changed. The walls turned from metal to brick, the floor to solid concrete. The hall was so narrow the group had to travel single-file. Chekov walked at the back, silently admiring the rustic beauty of the hall.

A pneumatic door whooshed open ahead and Chekov heard the ambassador greet Amata Gerald. Chekov couldn't see past Spock, who stood in front of him but he saw the Vulcan's back get stiff and heard his breath catch.

Chekov stood on his toes and used the walls to see over the Commander to see what he saw. He fell back to the ground with no avail. Spock turned slightly to see Chekov trying to see past him and moved politely. Chekov nodded to him in thanks and Spock nodded back, keeping his eyes on the floor the entire time. Then, Chekov made the mistake of looking at Amata Gerald.

She sat a desk typing on a computer. She wore a black uniform: pants and a halter-style top. Her chocolate hair was twisted into a neat bun. Thin slivers of a black stone hung from her ears. Hazel eyes lay under long, thick eyelashes; her brows perfectly formed. Full lips were slightly pursed as she searched for something on the screen. She clicked something and looked up at the group. Her eyes contained more force full on. Chekov caught his own breath and felt his heart rate increase exponentially. He almost had to force himself from her face to look at the rest of her.

She had a perfect hour-glass shape, she wasn't skinny by any means, but she wasn't fat… she rode a happy medium. Had Chekov been thinking much his Captain usually did when he scoped women he would have guessed her dress size to be about a 12 at most. She was average height, maybe 5'5" at the tallest.

She looked young, but she carried herself with a subtle grace. There were no wasted moves; no fiddling with hair, face, clothes or the pen she held behind her left ear. Every move she made had a purpose, every glance had a reason. She was obviously human, but there was something surreal about her that made her too attractive for words to express.

"Welcome to the government morgue." She said in a mezzo-soprano voice of honey. It was apparent from her voice that she was not a fully grown woman yet.

"Thanks. I'm Captain Kirk, this is…"

"Doctor Leonard McCoy, Miss Gerald. You can call me Bones if you like." The Doctor introduced himself eagerly, jumping forward to shake her hand.

"Of course. I am Doctor Amata Gerald." She returned the handshake and turned to Spock and Chekov.

The Ensign noticed the subtle double-take she did when she saw Spock's face. Chekov's heart sank a few millimeters at this, he knew that if she became fixated on his Commander, he would have no chance.

"Commander Spock." Spock simply nodded in her direction. Amata nodded back.

"Ensign Pavel Chekov." Chekov decided to pipe up and make his presence known from behind Spock.

Amata shook Chekov's hand warmly. Chekov did a mental double-take; he could have sworn he felt an electricity course into his body via his hand when their flesh met.

When she pulled her hand away she addressed the Captain and the Doctor.

"I was just about to pull the body. If you'd like to follow me." She led the Starfleet crew between two metallic autopsy tables: one clean and shiny, the other containing the body of a young Salthasian male, his torso exposed. Chekov looked away quickly; he wasn't planning on inspecting the inner organs of anyone today, although he knew that that might not be the case in the situation of the Lieutenant. They approached a wall of refrigerated compartments where the bodies were stored.

Amata tapped with her finger a computerized panel on the wall. A screen came up requesting a code. She typed it in quickly and scanned through what looked like a hotel guest list, but was really a list of the resident cadavers.

She clicked on one and a lock clicked open from the compartment labeled _B106_. She walked past the crowd of Starfleet personnel and pulled the drawer open to reveal a cold, blue tinged body.

"Is this your Lieutenant, Captain?" Amata asked, stepping to one side.

Captain Kirk nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it is."

Amata nodded solemnly. "I am very sorry, Captain." She walked to the opposite side of the room and retrieved a gurney to transport the Lieutenant to the autopsy table again.

Chekov watched her work in a trance. He heard her whisper to the body. "I'm very sorry to have to subject you to a return trip, friend, but a closer friend to you may be able to figure out what _actually_ happened." Why would she talk to the body? Chekov wondered. It was already dead; it couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Please, allow me to help you with him, Miss." Bones jumped forward to assist the young doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor." Amata responded. Bones proceeded to haul the muscular frame of the dead Lieutenant onto the gurney and wheel him to the free autopsy table. He then hauled the body onto the metallic surface.

"If you want to begin the autopsy now, I can't help you, I must finish with the Senator's nephew." Amata responded to a look from Bones that said _Shall we?_

Bones looked mildly dejected. "Of course."

Amata turned to the three other officers. "If you would like to stay, I have no objections."

"That's fine; we need to return to the ship, for now. Well, I do, at least. Spock and Chekov, you two stick around for now." Kirk clapped them both on the shoulder and followed the Ambassador out. The woman followed them winking at Amata as she left. Amata nodded in return and donned a pair of fresh gloves.

"Now, where were we?" Amata asked the body of the senator's nephew.


	2. How Could I Miss This

Commander Spock and Ensign Chekov looked on from the computer desk in silence as the two doctors worked. Each dissected their bodies skillfully, taking meticulous notes as they went.

Bones was working through the Lieutenant's cranium, inspecting the face, eyelids, mouth, nose, and every other orifice about the head and neck to be found before readying the skull to be opened again.

Doctor Amata Gerald, who had been interrupted from the autopsy she had been performing on the Senator's nephew, had already worked her way down to the torso and was weighing what looked like the liver and kidneys of the young Salthasian boy. Chekov noted, although he cursed himself for having looked, that the internal organs of a Salthasian are very similar to those of humans.

Amata made another notation on her personal computer, closely resembling a PADD, and placed the containers holding the organs on a separate table and went back into the body for more.

"May I ask a personal query?" Spock broke the silence with his logical questions.

Amata looked up from the Salthasian's intestines to see if Spock had indeed addressed her. "You need not ask, Commander, I am at your disposal for the foreseeable future."

"How old are you?" An uncharacteristic question but Chekov was glad hat he had saved him from having to ask.

"By earth years I would be considered sixteen. Here, I am twenty-three."

"Is zet vy you have been so vell trained?" Chekov piped up.

"Exactly. Here, you are trained for your profession by the age of nineteen. The expansion of the race is very important to the Salthasian people, everyone needs to be ready to work towards that expansion." She explained as she skillfully worked her scalpel to remove what appeared to be the pancreas.

"How'd a little thing like you get into pathology?" Bones asked as he readied a laser saw to slice open the Lieutenant's skull again.

"You don't need that." Amata said quickly placing the pancreas in a dish and removing her gloves. She donned a new pair and grabbed a clean scalpel. "I stitched him up just yesterday; the skull is still detached, so you only need to cut the stitches." She handed him the scalpel and pointed out where the line of stitches was.

Bones looked sideways at her, surprised by her quick correction of his work. "Uh, right. Were you planning on putting the skull back together?"

"Yes, I was planning on it, after we had identified the body, that is." Amata went back to her table.

"Why?"

"For this very reason of course! Should a second autopsy be requested!" She said as though it were blatantly obvious.

"Right." Bones replied and began delicately removing the stitches. "Gonna tell me how you got into pathology, now?"

"Ah. Right. I…" she trailed off as if looking for the words to complete a difficult sentence. "I lost my parents, and I never found out how. I wanted to help people find peace, because I never could." She weighed the pancreas and made notes.

Bones pulled the last stitch and folded the scalp forward over the face of Lieutenant Roosevelt. He gently removed the still detached portion of the top of the skull and placed it on a separate tray.

Amata looked up from her pancreas. "The brain is still loose." She stated.

Bones nodded and removed the brain. Turning it over in his hands, he did a visible double take.

Spock's ears perked up slightly at the prospect of a possible lead. "Have you found something, Doctor?"

"Doctor Gerald, what did you rule this death again?" Bones asked slowly, his eyes never leaving the organ although his head moved in Amata's direction.

"Subdural hematoma. Why do you ask?" Amata responded.

"What does this look like to you?" He pointed in the direction of the spinal cord.

Amata donned another pair of gloves and approached Bones and the brain. She looked in the direction he was pointing.

"Tissue fragments. But…" she took the brain and inspected it closely. "This _can't_ be!" She exclaimed. She put the brain upside down in a dish and dashed to the computer table. Hastily she shooed Chekov out of the way and grabbed a small scanner. She hurried back to the brain and scanned the tissue fragments. "_No_..."

"What is wrong?" Spock asked. He stood and walked over to the doctors.

"The medulla is… _not here_." She said, incredulous.

"Ze… _vat_? Sorry?" Chekov stood and hurried over to look as well, against his better judgment, as he immediately felt woozy around the open bodies.

"The medulla oblongata, it controls the heart… if it was removed then that means…" she trailed off, still stunned.

"That the life was literally sucked out of him." Bones finished.

***

"So what you're saying is..?" Captain Kirk's voice came in over the com-link Spock had enabled using the Starfleet communicators.

"The Lieutenant's heart didn't know to beat because the part of his brain telling it to do so was removed." Amata repeated her earlier explanation more simply.

"And that's what killed him? Not them opening his skull, or digging through his head, but…"

"The actual, physical removal of the medulla." Amata said with finality.

"Alright. Any idea who would even attempt something like this?" Kirk asked.

"There is one, Captain, but I would sooner have you discuss them with the ambassador." Amata said gravely.

"_Them_?" Kirk repeated with a slightly taken a-back tone.

"Yes. You should consult the ambassador, I don't think I have the legal clearance to discuss that case with you." Amata said officially.

"Alright. I'll contact him. Thanks for the update. Kirk out." The connection cut and the three Starfleet officers stood in silence with Doctor Gerald.

"Vat now?" Chekov asked after a few moments.

"Now: I need to finish my other autopsy." Amata said with what sounded like a lump in her throat.

The three Starfleet officers looked on in silent wonder as she donned yet another pair of gloves and got back to dissecting the Senator's nephew.

"I'll finish mine as well." Bones agreed walking back to the Lieutenant's body.

More silence. Chekov took the opportunity to pretend that he was watching Amata's autopsy. Although, given his distaste for human internal organs, he wasn't watching the autopsy at all. He was watching her.

She made the smallest of movements for each task, being as efficient as the young Ensign knew Spock could be when he was solving a problem manually. Chekov watched the way her eyes examined the body's parts; looking for deformities, inconsistencies, imperfections that may have led to the young man's death.

By looking at the young woman it was not hard to believe she was sixteen. But looking at what she did, and how well she did it would have led Chekov to believe that she was much older than she let on. Possibly as much as ten Earth years older.

She slowly made her way through the pelvic area of the body, removing the bladder and inspecting the finer organs without so much as a twinge of red entering her cheeks, as she was aware of three men watching her do the examination.

Finally she removed her gloves, updated her notes, and headed to the computer. Spock moved from his place with a polite nod so as to give her easier access to her computer. She clicked around for a minute, typed some things in, and printed a hard copy. She took the paper from the small printer and signed her name on a line. This was no doubt a death certificate for the Senator's nephew. She placed the document in a drawer and walked back to the body.

"Goodnight, young man." She said as she readied the gurney.

Bones looked up again. "Want me to..?"

"Thank you, Doctor, but that won't be necessary." She proceeded to hoist the body quite easily by the torso onto the gurney, following it with the legs.

Once the body was in the cooler she turned to Bones. "Do you require any assistance now Doctor?"

"Uh, no, I was just going to stitch him up and put him back." Bones responded.

"I suppose I shall have to edit the death certificate now." Amata said with a sigh.

"Yeah, I guess so. I still need to look over that brain again. I don't know how such an extraction could give off enough blood to make you think it was a subdural hematoma."

"If you want to get going on the brain now, I'll stitch him back up for you." Amata offered putting on yet another new pair of gloves.

Bones raised an eyebrow at her efficient way of thinking. "What's wrong? You want us gone or something?" He laughed once. She didn't.

"Please don't take my efficiency as a request for you to leave, but this _is_ my lab and I don't particularly enjoy sitting back and watching another do the work that I could be doing." She said blatantly.

"Uh… right. Then, I guess…" Bones seemed to be taken a-back by a sixteen year old not wanting to be lazy. Even Ensign Chekov himself had his moments at seventeen. "Go ahead and close him up then."

"Thank you for understanding, Doctor McCoy." Amata replied picking the necessary supplies from a drawer under the autopsy table.

She completed her work silently and efficiently. Bones worked equally as efficiently, but he looked to be somewhat flustered by her serious attitude towards her work.

Doctor McCoy poked around the brain for a few minutes then took to scanning it thoroughly. His face tightened after a moment. "Doctor Gerald, there may be something here you should look at."

Amata put down her suture and looked over McCoy's shoulder at the scanner. "My God… clever bastards…" she said under her breath.

"What is it you've found, Doctor?" Spock interjected.

"This wound was inflicted pre-mortem…" Amata said walking to an X-ray panel on the wall adjacent to the computer table where Chekov sat and Spock stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. She opened an X-ray of the brain and examined it. "Sure enough… there it is. How the hell did I miss this?" She exclaimed.

All three men recoiled slightly at her outburst.

"May I ask what you've found?" Spock repeated approaching the X-ray panel.

"A small sector of the cerebellum is missing! Less than a cubic millimeter, but, it's missing…" she sounded astounded. "I've only seen this type of biological artistry once before… Doctor McCoy please inspect the prefrontal cortex, I would be willing to bet that another section is missing."

McCoy did as she requested. "You're right, this one's post-mortem though, minimal bleeding."

"I must alert the ambassador at once…" she whispered so quietly it was barely audible. "Doctor," she turned and spoke at normal volume, "would you be willing to wrap this up yourself, I must go talk to the ambassador."

"Yes of course," he said.

She nodded a quick thank you and removed her gloves. She quite nearly ran from the room, leaving the three men exchanging glances of uncertainty.

"Guess she knows more than she's telling." Bones concluded. He placed the brain back in the dish and placed the cover on. He signed the tag on the box and placed it in an organ fridge next to the body cooler.

Spock turned to Chekov. "Ensign, I want you to keep her under surveillance, until she comes back. I want to know what she neglects to tell us."

"You mean… _spy_?" Chekov couldn't believe what his superior officer was telling him to do.

"In a word, yes."

"If you say so, Commander." Chekov took a deep breath and hurried after her, leaving the Vulcan behind with the Doctor.


	3. Think Logically

Ensign Pavel Chekov followed the muffled footfalls of Doctor Amata Gerald before him. She ran quickly through the maze of government passageways, some metallic, some brick, presumably heading the in the direction of the Ambassador's office. Chekov followed about 20 feet behind her, keeping his presence unknown. He could hear her panting as she ran. Her footfalls were soft, as though she only wore socks.

After what seemed like half an hour her footfalls slowed and a pneumatic door opened and closed. Chekov peeked around the corner. A digitized plaque on the wall signified that this was, in fact, the office of the Ambassador.

Muffled voices floated through the door. Chekov pulled his communicator form his pocket and attached it to a computer terminal near the door. After an amount of skillful hacking he had established an undetected com-link with the office.

He blessed himself and quickly prayed for forgiveness for spying, then returned to his eavesdropping.

"You are sure, Amata?" the Ambassador's voice was unmistakable.

"Yes sir, the very same areas of the brain were tampered with. We both know what this means." Amata responded.

"This is a fortunate turn of events; from the point of view we may finally be able to catch the culprits." The Ambassador mused thoughtfully.

"I agree from that point, Ambassador, however, with a crew made up of a high human population… I must implore you to convince them that assisting us is an unwise endeavor." Amata responded in a very Vulcan-like manner, which was, as Spock would say, a logical speech pattern had she in fact been raised here.

"Amata," the Ambassador began in a sympathetic tone, "I know what you have lost to these people…"

"Far more than you have, Ambassador. With all due respect I don't want to have to perform the autopsies of countless humans for our planet's sake."

"Amata, I understand how you could be perplexed at the thought of losing more individuals. I was there when Solin…"

"Don't," Amata interjected harshly, "bring him up! I was not following that thought process, Ambassador; I simply want what is best for this crew!"

"Amata, I am not insinuating that you don't but I think the presence of the Vulcan is clouding your sensibility." The Ambassador countered.

So there was something about Spock that had affected Amata, one way or another, Ensign Chekov thought to himself. Now if only he could figure out what it was.

"Ambassador, as much as Commander Spock resembles Officer Solin, I take solace in the fact that he is not. I have let Officer Solin go. My reasoning has not been, and will not be, affected by the Commander's presence." Amata affirmed her position as calmly as she could.

"And yet you suggest that we send an entire _Starship_ of useful allies away?" The Ambassador reeled from her flawed logic.

"Ambassador, it is in the best interests of the crew of the _Enterprise_ to leave." Amata pleaded.

"If we let them go the Scavengers will slip through our grasp once again and, more likely than not, follow them! We are not strong enough on our own…"

"So you suggest we use them as bait? Ambassador, please, this is neither the safe nor logical way to proceed!"

"I am not suggesting we use them as 'bait', Amata, I suggest we utilize their developed technology and combat skills to assist us in identifying and capturing the Scavengers!" The Ambassador responded calmly.

"Ambassador! We already know who…"

"An off-handed comment made by my colleague is not sufficient ground to conduct an investigation."

"And yet a tip from a rebellious Salthasian teenager addicted to Ocampan Silk Weed is sufficient? Ambassador, think logically!"

"Amata… fine. I see your point, but he had a record of giving useful information to the authorities, _and_ his tip was accurate after all."

"Ambassador, please! What you are doing is nothing more than sentencing an entire ship to… to… death!" Her voice was rising.

"Amata, that is enough!" There was no response from the girl. "I will transport to the _Enterprise_ tomorrow to speak with Captain Kirk, and together we will determine the most logical course of action. If you wish for the Vulcan to mediate I can arrange it."

Still there was no response. The Ensign sat outside the room feeling as guilty as ever after listening to a presumably private argument. All was silent for several minutes. Chekov sat balanced on the balls of his feet ready to run into hiding should Amata make an unexpected exit. Instead he heard the slow, heavy, clicking footsteps of the Ambassador followed by the sound of heavy hands on fabric.

"Amata," he began quietly, "I know you don't always agree with me, but try to see: everything I do is for _you_, to keep you safe. When Tsarlina and I took you in, when your parents died so many years ago, we vowed to protect you like true parents. I will do _whatever it takes_ to honour that vow."

Chekov heard her suppress a small sob.

"All of their lives are worth so much more than mine, Ambassador." She said in a quivering voice.

"Not in my eyes." He said softly but blatantly.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"_Vnebrachnyj rebyonok_!" Chekov nearly tipped over at hearing her curse at the Ambassador, he adoptive father, at all, let alone in Russian. He heard her soft footsteps approach the door. He grabbed the communicator and dodged into the nearest inset doorway.

The pneumatic door opened and closed and Ensign Chekov watched as Amata hurried past, stone faced.

Chekov followed her all the way back to the morgue and slipped in behind her, pretending he had never left. Pretending he hadn't heard what he just had.

***

_Author's Note:_

_I will begin by saying I am not a big user of author's notes, so if I post one it's usually at least __**semi**__-important. I wanted to say that I am very sure _'Vnebrachnyj rebyonok' _means _'bastard'_. If you are 100% sure I am wrong, please tell me, but I used this because it was the most reliable looking version of it I could find on the internet._

_Since I'm here I might as well say: I hope you're enjoying the story so far! I will work in some Spock stuff here soon as I promised it in my summary. DO keep in mind though, there is no prior Spock/Uhura pairing in my AU here, so that allows Spock some room for 'scoping', I think men call it. Can Vulcans 'scope'? Are they capable of off-handed lust? I guess I get to decide, seeing as it's my masterpiece._

_One last note, and I'll let you go: I got a comment regarding Amata's autopsy style, comparing it to that of Alex Woods of CSI: Miami. I was glad to see that there was someone else who talked to cadavers! I _actually _modeled her autopsy style (i.e. talking to the bodies) from Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard of NCIS._

_So that's all, enjoy, expect another chapter probably tomorrow!_


	4. Broken Bird

It was clear to Ensign Chekov the next day that tensions were running high between Amata and her father. She had not accompanied him to the _Enterprise_, although the tall woman with the beautiful voice, whom Chekov guessed was Tsarlina from the argument, had. She captivated the entirety of the male crew, which Chekov could not comprehend. He thought Amata was much more interesting: Tsarlina followed the Ambassador and agreed whole-heartedly with whatever he said, whereas Amata had the gall to argue with him.

A small portion of the crew had been assembled in the meeting room and now sat awaiting the Captain to arrive from the bridge. Spock, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, Doctor McCoy and Scotty were assembled around the table along with the Ambassador and his companion.

The pneumatic door whooshed open and the Captain arrived.

"Good morning, Ambassador," Kirk shook the Ambassadors hand warmly then turned to the woman with a look of uncertainty of his face.

"Tsarlina, Captain. The Ambassador's body guard." That confirmed Chekov's suspicions.

"Tsarlina." Kirk shook her delicate looking hand as well and sat down in his chair. "Now, Ambassador, I was informed by Amata that the cause of death was significant to a case you have already been involved with?"

"Yes, Captain. Several years ago when Amata came to Salthasia, she had parents. They were the first on-planet target by a group of Salthasian rebels we have come to call the Scavengers. They target humans for some kind of scientific experiments involving the extraction of tissue from organs, or, in some cases, entire organs and body parts."

"Do you know what they use the organs for?" Kirk asked.

"No. The results of their testing are very well hidden; we have no idea what they are doing with the tissue." The Ambassador responded honestly.

"Bones, if you took someone's organs what would you do with them?" Kirk offered a hypothetical to his Doctor.

"Uh…" the Doctor looked taken a-back at the odd question. "I would use it for a transplant, I suppose."

"That is, of course, the logical use for stolen organs and tissue, Captain, but that is only a speculation as to how they use the tissue. We have no way of knowing until we manage to bring a member into custody for questioning." The Ambassador stated.

"And how, exactly, do you suppose we do that if you don't know where they are?" Kirk replied.

"We can use your technology to find them." The Ambassador said hopefully.

"And search for what exactly?" Kirk said.

"Well, I… I'm not… I would have thought that you…" The Ambassador was at an utter loss. It was obvious to the crew of the _Enterprise_ that he had truly been raised a Salthasian: always expecting the other race to know what's best.

"Salthasians always seem to borrow aspects of their culture from other cultures in the Universe, yes? Is that why you can't find these people? Because it hasn't happened in the Universe before?" Uhura asked.

The Ambassador said nothing but to the trained eye his face fell, signifying the statement's truth.

"Well," Kirk said leaning forward onto his elbows, "We can't scan for them. There's nothing I can figure they're using that we'd possibly be able to pick up on such an evolved planet. However, we can look into finding leads."

"What do you suggest, Captain?" Tsarlina asked.

Kirk faltered slightly at her voice. "I… uh, we can ask around with the planet's medical suppliers, see if anyone out of the ordinary purchased anything. We could ask people who may have been close to the victims…"

"That is precisely the problem, Captain Kirk. The only victims from _our_ planet were Amata's parents. They were not here long enough to get to know anyone. And Amata, being so young, has limited memory." The Ambassador added sadly.

"'Limited' implies she has retained some memory of the ordeal. Are you aware of her recollections?" Spock asked.

"Not off-hand, but…"

"Then you wouldn't mind if we spoke to her?" Kirk asked.

"I would have to consult her on the matter, of course, Captain, but I can foresee no reason why she would not co-operate." The Ambassador agreed somewhat grudgingly.

"Good, then. When can we meet her?" Kirk said, sitting back in his chair.

"So you agree to help us then?" The Ambassador said raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"These _Scavengers_ made this our business when they kidnapped and murdered my Lieutenant." Kirk said; his voice serious. "I have Scotty and the entire Engineering sector of this ship trying to figure out how the hell they got on board to take Lieutenant Roosevelt."

"If we have a greater understanding of their transportation tactics we may have something to scan the planet for. Alternately, it could narrow down our search criteria." Spock added.

"I see," the Ambassador responded simply to the information.

"We will need to know more about them first, Ambassador." Kirk said.

"Of course, what do you want to know?" The Ambassador replied.

"Are the Scavengers definitely Salthasian?" A nod came in response. "Have they killed any other species besides humans?" Another nod. "Which species and how many?"

"One Vulcan." The Ambassador replied.

The whole room became a little more attentive. The Ambassador took the refreshed looks as a sign to carry on.

"A family of Vulcans was brought to our planet nearly forty years ago. Their second youngest, Solin, became a law enforcement officer. He and Amata… they were close. We received a tip from a young teenager who was well versed in the life of Salthasian petty crimes, and we decided to follow the lead, hoping to bring something of it.

"Solin was assigned to the case, along with five other Salthasian officers. They raided a small residential complex in search of a Scavenger lair. The tip turned out to be accurate. The Scavengers were not willing to give in. They incapacitated the Salthasian officers and Solin was… he was pushed from a third story window. He died on impact. Amata performed the autopsy; she has all the notes concerning his death.

"During the aftermath of the raid organ remnants were found and examined by Amata and some of the best scientists working for the Salthasian government. All samples were human, ranging from brain tissue to whole human bones. No documents or computer recordings were ever recovered, so we still had no idea what the parts were being used for."

The crew was silent. An electronic beep sounded from the computer console behind the Captain. Kirk stood and answered it.

"Kirk here."

A male voice answered. "I have an incoming communication from the surface, sir. A Doctor Amata Gerald. She says it's important."

"Patch her through."

"Captain Kirk?" Amata's voice flowed through the machine.

"Yeah," The Captain responded. It was obvious to the crew that his voice contained a hint of sympathy, and even understanding. After all, his father had been killed for no apparent reason as well.

"A human just crossed my table. He was wearing a red Starfleet uniform." She said sadly.

"Did he wear identification?"

"No. But I went ahead with the autopsy. The results are… rather disturbing, to be frank, sir." Amata started.

"Go ahead." The Captain prompted.

"His spinal column has been removed."

***

Captain Kirk, Spock, Chekov, Bones, the Ambassador and Tsarlina arrived via transporter not five minutes later. They began the long walk through the hallways towards the morgue.

"We need to find out what they're up to with these parts." Kirk said with the authority he had worked so hard to achieve. "Could they be building people?"

Spock answered. "I am not sure what you imply, Captain."

"You know," Kirk responded half turning around to face his colleague, "when you build your own car, you take parts from working ones. Could they do that with people?"

"It seems like a risky procedure, but it could work." Bones replied thoughtfully. "They could also be repairing, forgive my vocabulary, a broken person… possibly people."

They were halfway down the hallway maze now when the sound reached their ears. A far off feminine voice that was, unmistakably, screaming.

"Amata!" The Ambassador bellowed.

The entire group burst into a run, the Ambassador led the group followed closely by the Captain who was followed by Chekov, likewise by Spock, Bones and Tsarlina. The maze of hallways never seemed to end. The metallic panels on the walls, floor and ceiling passed in a blur. The screaming became louder and louder.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, they reached the staircase. Each man, and Tsarlina, took the stairs three at a time.

The door came into view. It was closed, but Amata's screams came through just as clearly as if it had been open. The door sensed their movement and opened just in time not to be rammed by the Ambassador.

The Ambassador collapsed against a wall in shock at what he saw.

Amata was pressed against a wall, her legs restrained by her attackers, her hands held above her head by one of his hands. The assailants other hand was maneuvering a blade in her mouth. Tears poured down her cheeks and she still emitted sound, though now it was garbled by what everyone guessed was her own blood.

The Captain quickly phasered the assailant, who toppled sideways like a load of bricks.

Chekov maneuvered his slim, agile body around the Captain and crossed the ten feet of space in a futile attempt to catch the young woman before she fell herself. She reached the floor with a loud thud, her head angled towards the ceiling.

Chekov reached her, far too late for his liking, and took her far shoulder turning and lifting her so that her head was suspended above the ground, and the blood flowed out of her mouth as opposed to into her lungs, which would have no doubt resulted in her drowning.

She coughed and spluttered blood everywhere. She shook violently, and the tears were still pouring.

Chekov rearranged his hands on her body so that one held her upper right arm and the other supported her torso from the abdomen. She had arranged her legs herself so support the rest of her. She had planted her right hand on the floor.

Slowly, and with a shaky motion, she brought her left hand up to grasp Chekov's own left hand on her abdomen. She tilted her head slightly to shoot the most pleading look she could muster into his eyes.

Instinctively he held her tighter, to try and make her feel safer.

Bones appeared on her right side and was scanning her head and neck searching for the epicenter of the wound that was still hemorrhaging blood.

The two men exchanged a worried look and Chekov's arms convulsed slightly around her, holding her more tightly still.

Amata looked up at her father, the Ambassador. She sat back on her heels, with Chekov's unceasing support and lifted her right hand from the floor. She soaked her index and middle finger in her own blood that had spilled to the concrete floor and, on the nearest empty space, wrote: _I told you_.

Her father fell to his knees. Giant sobs racked his enormous frame. A garbled reply of "I know, I know," escaped his blubbering lips.

"The base of her tounge's been halfway severed. If I get her back to sick bay, I think I can fix it." Bones said.

Kirk nodded and took out his communicator. "Scotty, three to beam directly to sick bay."

"Aye, Cap'n." Came Scotty's voice in reply.

And with that, Ensign Chekov, Doctor McCoy, and Doctor Amata Gerald de-materialized.


	5. Don't Let Go

The smell of antiseptic cleaner and iodine solutions drifted through the cold sick bay. Metallic panels shone around the room. The computer terminals and medicine drawers had just been cleaned, not a fingerprint resided on the smooth polished surfaces.

Cutting the silence, three figured materialized in the middle of the room, one trying unsuccessfully to hold in groans of pain, another barking orders at the third.

Bones and Chekov hauled Doctor Amata Gerald to one of the clean tables.

"Try to get her on her back," Bones said with the Doctor's signature tone of efficient desperation. "Don't let her swallow the blood!" He added when Amata's head lolled slightly upright and she gagged.

Chekov did as he was asked. He guided her body flat to the table with one hand while he supported her head facing sideways with the other. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears that fell from her eyes. He understood from the horrified look in her eyes that the pain from her severed tongue must be excruciating.

Bones hurried to a medicine drawer and pulled a medication for the hypospray. He came back to the table where Amata lay convulsing in pain.

"Doctor Gerald, this medication is going to knock you out for a few hours…" he was answered with Amata violently shaking her head "no".

"Amata," he tried to enforce his point by using her first name, "please, I need to do this."

She shook her head again.

Bones looked to Chekov as though he held the answer. Chekov shrugged with a pained look on his face. Then an idea dawned on him, he hoped it would work.

"Amata, if you don't take ze injection you will hurt more when Doctor McCoy tries to fix you." Chekov said to her softly.

She shot him an angry look that said "I don't care."

"I won't leave. I'll be right here, whole time, I promiz." He said then chose to add, "_Puzhalsta_?"

Her eyes softened, as though she was considering it. She reach up and squeezed his hand as though asking "You promise?"

"_Da_. I promise." He whispered squeezing her hand back.

Bones raised the hypospray to her jugular and injected.

Chekov felt Amata's hand squeeze his once more before it slowly relaxed and her dark eyes fluttered closed. A single tear fell from her eye and he wiped it away.

Bones sighed and got to work. He walked to another supply drawer and retrieved some equipment. He shooed Chekov to Amata's other side so he could work.

"Pavel, are you sure you want to stick around for this?"

"I promized her Doctor, I cannot leawe now." He didn't let go of her hand.

"Alright, your call, kid." Bones said as he got to work reattaching the young woman's tongue.

He set a scanning chip halfway down the outside of her neck to monitor his work. Chekov made the mistake of looking at the screen that projected the scanner's results. The lowermost part the tongue was quite nearly severed. Chekov closed his eyes and began to pray.

***

The morgue was in shambles. The computer desk had been swept of the computer and the other electronic equipment that had been there only moments before. One of the metallic autopsy tables had been overturned, the contents of the drawers beneath the table was now strewn across the floor.

There was broken glass in a corner where multiple evidence jars had been thrown. Blood coated the floor.

The only portion of the room that had not been disturbed was the autopsy table that held Ensign Victor Saunders. The body was being stabilized for transportation to the _Enterprise_ for a follow-up autopsy for more evidence.

The stunned body of the assailant had been restrained and escorted to the _Enterprise_ by Salthasian officials. Tufts of the assailant's hair covered the floor, evidence of Amata's retaliation from her attack.

Kirk and Spock looked on with the Ambassador and Tsarlina as Salthasian investigators worked the scene of the crime.

"It is no longer safe for her here." The Ambassador said. "I want her to stay on the _Enterprise_ until this rebellion has been ended."

"It's really not that easy, Ambassador," Kirk began.

"Why not? She is there now!" The Ambassador cried.

"Ambassador, your pain is understandable but you must understand that the _Enterprise_ cannot just take on new passengers without prior warning," Spock interjected the imminent rage.

"Starfleet is supposed to help unite the universe! Whether it's between races or within a race! You should be able to help my daughter!" The Ambassador begged the officers.

Kirk and Spock exchanged a look. Although they had only been together on the _Enterprise_ for a few months they had the ability to understand the simplest of glances between each other. Whether that was helped by Spock's touch telepathy, or whether it was just the beginning of what the elder Spock had warned them of: a lifelong friendship.

"She will reside in our sick bay for the time being until Doctor McCoy has cleared her for duty. After that, my colleagues and I will deliberate to find a solution that will benefit everyone." Kirk said with finality.

Although he was not happy with the outcome of the conversation the Ambassador dropped the point. They watched the body be taken from the room on an anti-gravity gurney to the transporter pad. Evidence was being collected by the Salthasian officers, the shards of glass, the hair, Amata's blood, the contents of the autopsy tables, everything was being collected.

"We found Earth's methods of law enforcement and health care one of the most efficient that we had studied. We adopted these, but even though we have investigated other systems throughout the Universe, we have found nothing that would help us find these people." Tsarlina said sadly. "If we can question the assailant we may be able to find out who the Scavengers are and what they are trying to accomplish with what they steal."

"We do have a better chance of finding a lead with the assailant in custody." Kirk agreed. He watched as images were taken of the message Amata wrote on the floor to her father. _I told you_.

"Ambassador, what did Amata mean by '_I told you_'?" Kirk asked the Ambassador.

The Ambassador sighed and smoothed his hair with a shaky hand. "Several weeks ago, Amata caught an off-handed comment from Senator Lerik's son. '_Too bad the Vulcan had to die when it was only humans like you they wanted_,' was what he said. No one outside of myself, Amata and a group of people within the law enforcement group knew that Solin had died that night."

"Was this the same young man that Amata was dissecting yesterday?" Spock questioned.

"Yes."

"Ambassador did you know the assailant?" Kirk asked.

"Yes."

***

The sick bay was dark now. Only a few lights were on, and they were dim. Ensign Pavel Chekov sat next to the bed where Doctor Amata Gerald lay, unconscious but stable.

Doctor McCoy had assured Chekov that the operation had been a success, and that Amata would not suffer any long term consequences. After the next two or three days, anyway.

He hadn't moved in three hours. He had promised her he would stay, and stay he had. He watched her sleep. Her head was upright now; there was no more risk of the blood flowing into her lungs. Her chest rose and fell softly, signifying each breath; each moment she was alive.

Chekov had interlaced his fingers with hers, taking selfish pleasure in being able to do so. He drew circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, waiting for her to wake up. He wanted to know that she was alright; it simply wasn't enough for him for Bones to tell him so, he needed to know.

He was presently captivated with her lips. Full, and dusty rose in colour; they looked soft. _Very_ soft. He felt another twinge of selfish desire as he thought of the old tale _Sleeping Beauty_. The thought entered his head that if he kissed her she would wake up and be okay. Then the ugly truth dawned on him: that would never work. Of course, if the Doctor was right, which he usually was, she would be fine. But kissing her would do nothing.

He realized then that, subconsciously, his free hand had floated up to her face and was smoothing her hair by her cheek. Her beautiful, rose-tinted cheeks. They formed a subtle contrast to the rest of her fair skin. She looked like what he had imagined an angel to look like. Simply beautiful. He stroked her hair again, this time letting the tips of his fingers graze her skin. He caught the hair on the nape of her neck bristle ever so slightly.

He stood softly, careful to put no weight on his hand that was holding hers. He supported himself on the other, which was planted firmly above her head. His face floated above hers, only inches from her beautiful lips. He noticed as he got closer how long her eyelashes were. And her nose… it was perfect; a small button in the centre of her face.

He was so close now. He could feel the slow soft breath escaping her nose. He willed himself to do it.

He gently pressed his lips to hers. An explosion of adrenaline filled his entire circulatory system, but he didn't act on the feeling the chemical gave him. He didn't move a muscle. He just stood there, with his lips finally connected to hers. And they just breathed together. He caught her sweet scent with each inhale. She smelled like spring in Moscow. He wondered briefly if she could smell him too, from wherever she was then. He wondered if she could feel his lips, just as he could feel the softness of hers.

After what seemed like a blissful eternity he lifted his face from hers. Surely enough, she hadn't woken, she just lay there breathing. He sat back in his chair by her side and lay his head next to hers. The adrenaline was still pumping furiously and he resisted the urge to do it again; to go back for more; to wake her up and show her what she missed. No, he couldn't. Not when she looked so angelic as she was then.

The pneumatic door swished open and Chekov looked up. Spock wandered, as nonchalantly as a Vulcan could, over to the bed. He, too, stared with wonder into her face.

Still coming off the adrenaline high, Chekov felt an almost overwhelming sense of jealousy. He wanted to get up and tell Spock to leave. But he couldn't. Not to a superior officer.

"Fascinating." Spock whispered as he examined her face.

"Vat?" Chekov asked.

"She looks… peaceful. For one who has undergone so much trauma in a single day." Spock pulled a chair to her other side and sat, his eyes never leaving her face.

"She is so beautiful." Chekov whispered. He realized he hadn't taken his hand back from hers, but suddenly he didn't care. If Spock saw, Spock saw. It wouldn't matter.

"She is." Spock unexpectedly agreed.

"I sought Wulcans didn't hawe emosions." Chekov said.

"A common misconception, Ensign. Vulcans have emotions, but we choose not to express them, as they are a common bar to logic. We are, however, free to point out beauty when we find it. She is one such exception." Spock explained, looking captivated.

Chekov looked back at her face and agreed silently. Spock may not have been human, but he certainly could understand beauty like one. If a man could not see the beauty in Amata's face, then he didn't deserve to share the room with her.

Suddenly Amata inhaled sharply and her eyes fluttered open. Both men sat a little straighter. Her dark eyes flicked about the room taking in her surroundings, trying to quell her disorientation. She turned to Ensign Chekov and searched his face for answers when she could draw none.

"Allo, Amata." Chekov said quietly.

"_Privyet, Pavel_." She shocked him by using his first name. "_Spasiba_."

"It vos no problem. You will be fine now, _da_?" He said softly.

"_Da_." She responded. She looked down to where their fingers were still interlaced. Chekov blushed and tried to pull away but her finger convulsed around his. "_Puzhalsta_, don't let go…" she whispered as her eyes fluttered closed again.

Chekov grinned to himself and tilted her head back up to the ceiling. She was going to be fine.

***

_Author's Note_

_Alright, so I used more Russian, correct me if I made mistakes._


	6. Solin

Spock inspected the clock on the other side of sick bay. 2 a.m. Ensign Chekov had fallen asleep nearly an hour ago, in his place next to Amata Gerald's bed. His head lay next to her hip, just on top of their still interlocked fingers.

He looked down into the trance-inducing face of the young pathologist next to him. He couldn't comprehend why someone would want to remove the tongue of a honey-voiced angel.

He was vaguely aware of his orders nagging at him in the back of his mind, but he didn't want to disturb the serenity of her sleep.

He chose instead to raise his hand to her face, delicately place his fingers amongst her porcelain features to learn what he could.

***

Amata's eyes slid open. Again she was in a new room. She was becoming used to this; this change of scenery. She was even getting better at telling which were real and which were drug induced. Although there was one that had slipped away that she longed for the most…

She began her journey in her morgue, her haven, the place where the dead told her their secrets; the place where no one could lie. That's all the dead were able to tell her: the truth. The one thing that she vowed to find; the one thing that had quite nearly gotten her killed.

She then appeared in a metallic room which, she guessed, was the _Enterprise's_ sick bay. The place where the young Russian Ensign, Pavel Chekov, had promised her he would stay with her, and that he would be there when she woke up. And she had believed him.

She had then traveled to the roof of the government building where her father worked. How she had gotten to the roof so easily she'd never know. But once she was there she met a light musky breeze that caressed her face and hair. The musky scent carried with it a light flavor of diluted vodka that had stained her lips; she could smell it with every breath, before it was taken away. She would never forget those scents. Even now, in her mind's eye, she could taste the vodka, and imagine it perforating her lips.

She woke again in sick bay, meeting the beautiful face of Pavel Chekov. She had noted his eyes, his curls, the light rosy tint to his skin, the musky scent to his face that was only a foot from hers. He was young for an officer, but, then again, who was she, a sixteen-year-old pathologist to judge by age? She thought that he must have received slandering comments from the crew for being so young, for looking so young. She, on the other hand, thought that his was the most beautiful human face she had ever laid eyes on.

Pavel Chekov's image slipped away, as she fought violently with her consciousness to stay, her brain did not want her to, though her heart said otherwise. She woke in her father's office. He was sitting at his desk and stood staring each other down calmly, in the Vulcan style with which they had both been raised. That Vulcan style… although it was useful in most areas of life Amata had noted that there was seldom a Salthasian that was disciplined enough to use it in the way the Vulcans did. She knew she lacked the discipline, that was why she worked with the dead. The dead didn't use logic. All the demand is a keen eye and deductive reasoning.

She slipped away from her father and woke in her morgue. Only, it wasn't _her_ morgue anymore. It had been destroyed by the assailant and by Amata herself. She hoped dearly that her father would have it fixed up by the time she was ready to return to work.

She came back to consciousness in sick bay. The beautiful Ensign had drifted into sleep and now lay with his head by her hip and their still interlocked fingers. She remembered asking him not to let go, and he hadn't. Finally she met someone she could trust. She could feel his soft dirty blonde curls with her index finger. His face was tilted towards her and she could make out the soft lash lines where his sea foam eyes were closed, the beautiful slope to his nose and the thin, pink lips she imagined would taste so much like the musky vodka breeze from the rooftop.

On her other side Spock was watching intently, almost scrutinizing her every movement. She was fascinated by the shape of his ears, the tint of his eyes, the point of his chin and the smoothness of his fair skin. It was like being with Solin once again… She then realized her father had been right. Her abdomen clenched when she saw him, her heart began to race, her mind clouded over… yet it was not Solin whom she saw. Commander Spock simply was not the man she wanted him so desperately to be.

She slipped once again away from reality and fell into her quarters on Salthasia. The wall sized window allowed her to see the sprawling metropolis that was Dalarthia; the planet's Capital. She remembered this night all too well. She wanted to break free but it was like she was watching the scene unfold from above. She stood in the same spot she stood in now every night for the last several months since Solin's death.

A pair of strong, warm, stony arms snaked around her waist and pulled her in close to a stony torso. Warm lips touched her ear, hot breath slipped through her hair and cascaded over her shoulders and into her nose and mouth. The figure behind her gently turned her around to face him. She looked into his pale elfin face and shed a tear. He raised an eyebrow and wiped the tear away. He then leaned down and kissed her softly, his hand never leaving her face.

When he pulled away he said: "This is a rather important night for you. I do not understand why you weep."

"My business tonight is of no worry to me. The appendix is useless anyway. _Your_ work is much more dangerous and I… I am worried for your safety."

"You need not worry, Amata, I have my colleagues with me. Together we shall not fail. We will end this game tonight and no longer will you be in danger." He kissed her again.

When they broke apart they were at the Dalarthia General Hospital. She was dressed in a patient's surgery gown and he in the protective uniform of the Salthasian Law Enforcement Department.

"I will be here when you wake up, and the Scavengers will no longer be a problem." He said.

"You are sure?"

"The chances of our success are 95.6%. Yes, I am sure." He replied.

"Be here when I wake up." She said kissing him one last time.

"I will be." He promised.

But as Amata experienced the last night of his life once more, she knew he wouldn't be there. That was why she hated being unconscious, because whoever was there would inevitably be gone when she awoke. Except Pavel Chekov…

"I am scared." She admitted.

"Don't be. _Your_ success chance is 99.6% You have nothing to fear. When the anesthetic wears off and your appendix is gone, you will wake up and I will be by your side." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Amata."

"I love you too, Solin." She replied.

When she woke again she was in a hospital bed. Solin was nowhere, but her father was by her side.

"Father," Amata asked "where is Solin?"

"Amata, Solin was…" he struggled to find words. "He was pushed, from a third story window. He did not survive. You don't know how sorry I am."

She couldn't breathe. "The… the Scavengers…"

"Got away, unscathed." Her father told her sadly. "I am so sorry, Amata."

She closed her eyes to sob but when she opened them she was standing once again in her morgue. She looked to the table before her. The Vulcan she loved lay strong and stony on the metallic surface. But he was no longer warm. He was ice.

A sob racked her body and she closed her eyes.

She woke to face a living, warm, stony, elfin face.

"S-… Solin…" she stuttered.

"Doctor Gerald, you are still dreaming…" he said.

"Then God don't let me wake!" She cried throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his face close to hers.

He was taken aback by her actions and couldn't fight back at first. In fact, he was enjoying the embrace. Her lips were soft and she was soft and warm. Neither of them noticed the figure rise behind them.

"Amata!" Ensign Chekov cried.

She broke her hold on the Vulcan. She fell back to her pillow and both men watched as she regained her bearings and realized what had just happened.

"C-Commander, I… I thought you… Solin…" another sob racked her body and she couldn't breathe.

Chekov rose from his chair and promptly left.

***

The brig of the _Enterprise_ was cold, dusty, a metallic hell for its occupants.

One such occupant sat quietly in his cell awaiting interrogation and eventually punishment. The man's high temple, cheek and jaw bones added to the look of sadness he gave off. Whether he was sad about what he'd done or about the fact that he'd been caught was unclear.

Captain James T Kirk waited across the brig, watching his prey watching him. He had decided to run this one alone. If things got hairy there were always the guards to bail him out.

"Are you to punish me yet?" Questioned the prisoner.

"Nope. I need to know some things first." Kirk replied, approaching the door to the cell.

The door was a solid wall of pure energy. Only sound and light could break the barrier.

"What is it you desire to know, Captain?" The prisoner asked.

"The Ambassador told me what your son told his daughter, Senator. Was his saying that the reason he's dead?"

"Yes."

"Who killed him?"

"I did. With a colleague."

"See, I don't get it. How can you kill your own child?"

"He betrayed the cause!" The Senator said as though it was obvious.

"How'd you kill him?"

"Ask your pathologist friend. Oh!" He exclaimed. "Did she survive, by the way?"

"Yes, she'll be fine."

The Senator laughed. "Not for long."

Kirk thought that maybe keeping Amata on the ship would be a good precaution.

"Where's your hide-out? Or whatever you want to call it."

"That should be obvious."

"How'd you get onto my ship?"

"Transporters, of course. Captain! Ask me a hard question!"

"How'd you scramble our system?"

"My son designed a bug. For a smart kid he sure was stupid." The Senator added, mostly to himself.

"How many people have you killed?"

"16 humans, and that one Vulcan bastard who got in the way. Amata's lover, if I am not mistaken. He kept yelling about her freedom, or something, until I pushed him."

"What are you doing with the parts?"

The prisoner stood then and approached the barrier so they were nearly face to face on opposite sides of the energy shield. A dark, sadistic look crossed the Senator's face.

"Ask Amata. She'll know if she _really_ thinks about it."


	7. I Know

The clock read oh seven hundred. Kirk was headed swiftly down the halls of the _Enterprise_ with Spock and Chekov in tow. The latter two hadn't spoken since the ordeal five hours earlier. Now they were headed back to the scene of the crime to finally question Amata.

Amata was in sick bay filling Doctor McCoy in on her autopsy notes of Ensign Saunders when Kirk and the others burst through the pneumatic door.

"Captain," Amata greeted him. Before she could greet the others Kirk had taken her shoulders and was steering her towards a bed to sit her down.

"It's about time we had a nice little chat, Doctor Gerald." Kirk sat her on a bed and stood opposite her, his arms crossed over his chest. Spock and Chekov stood at the end of the bed waiting.

"Captain, I don't understand. I've been more than co-operative with you… what is going on?" Amata said, genuinely bewildered.

"Spoke with the Senator last night. He said you knew more than you were telling us." Kirk said in his sarcastic tone. "Wanna enlighten me, _Doctor_?"

"I have no idea what he means… everything I haven't told you, I know my father has…"

"More specifically, the Senator said you knew what they were using the parts for." Kirk said putting a hand on the bed on either side of her body so their faces were close. "I _highly_ suggest you start talking."

"I… I don't know… Captain honestly! The Senator… if he works with the Scavengers in a style that is even remotely similar to his political style, he will throw any information in to the pot, true or otherwise, that will stir things up. He's obviously lying!"

"Well it's not that obvious to me. You _are_ a pathologist, and you know how to take out body parts and figure out what they're useful for. _What are the missing body parts useful for, Doctor_?"

"They are only useful for the purpose they were formed for in the first place! The medulla tells the heart to beat, the cerebellum tells you how to move, the prefrontal cortex controls memory, the spine keeps you one step above a jelly-fish, all the parts are highly specialized! I can see them building people, or repairing people illegally, but I have no other ideas!" Amata said becoming flustered from the unwanted attention.

"Fine here's one: You've just captured a human. What are you gonna do with his body parts?" Kirk asked.

"It depends which parts, Captain. I could remove 75% of the organs and still leave the human alive and functioning. Well, maybe _I_ couldn't, but…"

"Why not?" Kirk asked.

"Well, Captain, I am a _pathologist_! I take apart the dead, not the living. I would be hesitant to do anything to a live body, human or otherwise. I might kill them because I have no idea what I'm doing with living tissue!" Amata argued back amiably.

"Fine, can you think of a reason why they'd want to build a person? Or anyone they'd want to fix?"

Amata thought for a moment. "There isn't a human I can think of that they'd want to fix, but if they were trying to build someone, they could be looking into a super-human structure. Taking the best from the best and mashing it all together, maybe?" She shook her head. "That can't be it at all! They took Roosevelt's cerebellum."

"So?"

"He was a carrier for Muscular Dystrophy! If they wanted to make a super-human they wouldn't give him _that_ gene."

Kirk sighed and removed his hands from the bed. He began pacing. Suddenly his communicator went off. He answered with a simple: "Kirk."

"Captain, we found another body on the surface. It's Ensign Levi Exner." A voice came back.

"Bring him to the ship, we'll have Bones work him." Kirk sighed.

"Yes sir." The connection died.

"Captain, in all honesty Amata is far more qualified than I to perform an autopsy. It has been made very clear to me that she has no involvement in this case rather than connection to three victims." Bones argued for her.

"Fine. But I want you watching her every move." Kirk told him sternly. He then turned to Amata. "Don't screw this up." He said blatantly.

"I won't disappoint you sir." She replied.

Kirk signaled for Spock and Chekov to follow him.

They left sick bay and Kirk barked his orders. "I want the both of you to get down to Engineering and help Scotty find this damn bug in the system. I don't want any more of my crew disappearing."

"Yes, sir." They replied in unison.

***

The Ensign and Commander had both been assigned to the same sector of the ship by Scotty and were now performing a multitude of tests to find the bug that was scrambling the _Enterpise_. Both men worked in silence. Whether each was afraid to speak to the other after the previous night's occurrence or they simply had nothing to say was unclear yet.

Chekov was fully aware of the Commander's presence behind him. He didn't regard Spock, however. He was still angry. He understood full well that he had not laid a claim of any sort on the bright, young pathologist. The bright, young, _Russian_ _speaking_, pathologist. He still had to ask her about that, how had she learned Russian so far from home? Or, better yet, why?

The questions he had yet to ask her were half of what kept him drawn to her now, after what he'd seen last night. The questions, and the hope that maybe he still had a chance, past her obvious infatuation with Spock and his similarities to her old lover. But that was all he had! Chekov thought. Similarities. Nothing more.

Spock lowered his instruments fully contented that the bug was not in his sector.

"Ensign, I believe," Spock started slowly, "that an apology is in order."

"Vat for?" Chekov asked as he continued his work.

"For last night." Chekov was silent. "She was in a dream-like state. She did not understand her actions…"

"You cannot blame zis on her!" Chekov turned sharply to face his superior.

"I understand, Mr. Chekov. I did nothing to improve the matter. I can see," he added, "that you have a particular infatuation with her. An infatuation I cannot deny you. An infatuation I have rudely intruded on. I would like to offer my sincerest apologies."

Chekov thought for a moment than answered. "To be honest, C'mmander, it does not vork zis vay. I cannot just forgiwe you! Ze fact remains zat vat has been done cannot be undone. An apology, zough velcome, vill not change anysing."

Spock looked at the floor. "I understand, Mr. Chekov."

During the pause in the conversation Kirk came barreling through the room and motioned for both his officers to follow him.

"Captain, has there been a development in the case?" Spock asked following his swiftly moving Captain.

"To say the least. Amata contacted me, said she found something big." Kirk said and all three moved just a little bit faster.

***

The pneumatic doors to sick bay opened and the three officers came in.

A screen opened on the far side of the room and Amata appeared, she wore a bloody apron and a plastic face shield that was also coated in a semi-dried spatter of blood.

"Captain! I found something."

"So you said, what is it, Doctor?" Kirk said leading the two other officers behind the screen.

"Well, the cause of death for this young officer was loss of liver, both kidneys, and diaphragm. But _that_ is not the interesting thing." Amata said removing her face shield and placing it on a tray.

"An officer missing half his innards isn't interesting?" Bones poked his head in the screen to watch.

"I am not insinuating that his cause of death is not intriguing, but I have found something much more interesting! Come and look: after finding this," she showed them a dish containing what seemed to be a human kidney and half a liver, "I looked back to the bodies of Lieutenant Roosevelt and Ensign Saunders and I found _this_," she showed an evidence jar containing a tiny shard of metal, "embedded in Ensign Saunders' pelvic bone."

"Alright. What are they?"

"Well the metal shard makes more sense than the fake intestines.."

"Fake intestines?" the Captain repeated.

"Yes. They are plastic, probably inserted to make us think that all they took was the diaphragm. But they are solid plastic. They feel just like the real thing and look like it when you open it up," she demonstrated with the kidney, "but they're completely fake! I ran a test on the make-up of the plastic and found several chemical compounds that are only found in Altherian plastic. Altherian plastic is widely known to have minuscule air pockets in the material, so I am in the middle of analyzing the atmospheric gases in the air pockets, and soon we'll know the planet of origin of the plastic."

"Altheria, perhaps?" Kirk asked, as though it were obvious.

"Not necessarily. This plastic is widely known as the most malleable plastic in the quadrant. Good for making life like copies of things such as…"

"Human organs." Spock finished.

"Precisely. Now, while we wait for that, I figured out where the Scavengers are operating, or at least who supplies their tools." She turned to a computer enlargement of the metal fragment. "This," she gestured to the screen, "is no ordinary metal fragment. It is the tip of a scalpel. I ran a test on the make-up of the tip, it contains several alkali compounds that are used in only one brand of medical supplies. Guess what the only place on the _planet_ is that uses this brand?"

There was no answer.

"Dalarthia General Hospital."

"Then that's where we're going." Kirk said. "Thanks, Amata, that's good work."

There was a beep and Amata said: "But that's not all! I might have another answer for you, just now…" She walked to another computer terminal and pulled up a screen. "The atmospheric gas test is back… it was generated on Calthran IV, the same mining planet where Lieutenant Roosevelt went missing."

"Thought that planet was unnamed." Kirk said.

"Well, unnamed to the Federation. We've been using it for…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" the Captain prompted, his arms folded across his chest.

"That's what they're using it for. Oh, God, I did know…" she looked with stunned eyes into each pair of the officers'. "I know what they're using the bodies for."


	8. I Promize

Captain Kirk led the officers and Doctor Gerald in a hurried walk to the transporter room. Amata was hurriedly explaining the conditions of the situation as they were known to the Salthasian people.

"- used to be used as a medical base and mining planet. The composition was rich in iron ore and other components..."

"The medical base, Doctor! I don't want a geology lesson," Kirk tried to keep her on topic, as he and many others had noticed that she had a habit of flying off topics before.

"I was getting to that! Once the planets core had been reached, it was discovered that the core was radioactive; probably harming the patients more than they were being helped. The planet was evacuated and surveillance ceased. If anyone wanted to perform secret medical procedures it would be most logical to conduct them there."

"How'd they get the new medical supplies?" Kirk asked, hurrying down another hall.

"My best guess would be that one, or possibly more, Salthasian doctors have been working overtime, if you catch my meaning, sir." Amata answered, following.

Chekov walked next to her. He was impressed with how quick her information was. He wondered how she knew so much about the obscure planet. She would have been far too young, both by Salthasian standards and Earth standards, to have worked there as a pathologist.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Kirk said pursing his lips momentarily and turning down another hall. "What do you think they're doing?"

The group entered the turbolift and Kirk stared Amata down, his arms folded over his chest.

"I know it's a long shot, bit I think..." she sighed searching for words. "Captain, my father suffered from a strain of leprosy, as well as delusions of grandeur."

"He wanted to take over the world?" Kirk said sceptically.

"In a manner of speaking, yes he did." Amata answered. "He was taken to the planet months after we arrived on Salthasia. I was told that, when my mother went to visit him one day, they had a difference of opinion and he murdered her. I wasn't told how. I was then told, months later, that he had died, only days before the evacuation.

"I think that he persuaded some doctors to engage in dangerous testing to end his disease: a kind of living Frankenstein experiment, if you will."

Kirk sighed. "It sounds plausible."

"I agree, Captain, but the idea is quite far fetched. Keep in mind we found no operational medical facilities on the surface of the planet." Spock interjected.

"There were separate underground operations established during the use of the planet." Amata countered quickly.

"We will investigate." Kirk said leading the group from the turbolift to the transporter room.

Scotty stood to attention when they entered. "Got your message, Cap'n. We found activity below the surface; we're ready to send you in."

"Good." Kirk said, donning a utility belt. Spock and Chekov followed suit.

"Captain..." Amata started worriedly. "If I am right... my father, I remember, is an influential, impulsive and dangerous man..."

"Amata," Kirk put a hand on her shoulder, "We'll be careful."

"I think I should come with you, Captain. I might be able to persuade him to stand down or something..."

"No. I promised the Ambassador I would keep you safe here. And that's exactly what I'm going to do." Kirk said with finality.

Amata sighed. The trio headed to the pad.

Chekov felt a tug on his sleeve as he was passing the glass barrier. He turned to see Amata looking at him, her bottom lip caught in her teeth gently. He came back.

"Ensign... promise you'll come back."

He raised an eyebrow. "Vy do you sink I vouldn't?"

"Please. Just... say you'll come back." She looked up into his eyes. He could see that hers were forming tears.

"I vill be back. I promize." He said softly.

"_Spasiba_." She blinked the tears away and put a hand on his chest. "You were the only man who ever kept the promises he made me." She gave him a weak smile and closed her eyes. "Go." She whispered.

He felt a huge wave of sympathy rush over him, and a slight pang of delight that she was telling him to be careful instead of Spock. He gave her a quick hug, said "I promize" one last time and ran to the pad, receiving a look from his Captain that was his eyes' version of a thumbs up.

"Transporting in 5..." Scotty began to speak as Chekov's head began racing. He tried desperately to communicate with Amata using only his eyes.

"4..." her eyes met his.

"3..." Chekov tried to silently shout at her that he would be back.

"2..." Chekov yelled silently that he promised on his life that he'd be back.

"1..." _"I know_" her eyes whispered back.

Then, her beautiful brown eyes were gone.

***

The three officers rematerialized in a dirty, empty hallway. All the lights were out and a red _hazard_ light flashed at several points in the hall. Kirk silently led the two other officers down a side hall.

The building, which they guessed was underground, considering there were no windows, was like a maze. Side halls were in abundance, the main hall taking unexpected twists every 10 meters. The entire building smelled like dirt and rancid cleaner.

Finally, after ages of searching, a room at the end of a side hall was illuminated in a familiar white light. The three officers drew their phasers and silently approached the room.

Using a mirror opposite the room Kirk determined that there was a figure lying in the bed, but otherwise the room was empty. He nodded to his officers and they stormed the room.

"Captain James T Kirk of the _USS Enterprise_..." Kirk began but only responded by a slow, maniacal laugh.

"Yes, yes, Captain Kirk..." the man in the bed replied hoarsely."We _all_ know Captain Kirk..."

The figure in the bed looked rather pathetic. It was obvious he had been pieced together from multiple people. Stitches ran around both arm sockets, which were exposed through the hospital gown, the better part of his skull was covered in the skin of an African, or possibly a Brazilian, none of the officers could be sure. One eye was green while the other was grey. At least one of his feet, the only one which stuck out the bottom of the sheet due to two different sized legs, was a woman's. Only tiny portions of his skin showed the ravages of the leprosy virus: a spot under his chin, his left hand, a spot under his right arm.

"Oh yeah, and how do you know me?" Kirk replied, finger on the trigger.

"You are the fool we snuck past so easily. It was like shopping at the butcher's, really! You let us right onto your ship..." the man broke out coughing.

"How'd I do that exactly?"

"You took your away team back! We stuck a scrambler to one of them and you took them back! The scrambler allowed us to beam onto your ship undetected!" The man had a mild English accent.

The Captain looked mildly dejected.

"Oh!" The man exclaimed seeing Kirk's face. "Don't look so put down, Captain. You put up quite the, uh, _amusing_ fight to get where you are now." he looked at Spock and his eyes widened.

"Oh, my... do you realize you look exactly like that over-zealous fool who tried to stop our progress so many months ago?" He questioned the Vulcan Commander.

"Yes. I have been told." Spock entertained the segway.

The man's eyes turned to Chekov. "A Russian!" he exclaimed. The hairs on the back of Chekov's neck bristled. Although he was a proud Russian man, the fact coming from this man, who must have been Amata's father, sounded like an insult. The man continued. "My wife was Russian... _Yulianna_ her name was... she was always trying to expand our daughter's horizons; teaching her the language, as well as Greek, French, German, and God knows how many others... she was completely backward. The _true_ evolution of things is _unification_. Not expansion..." he coughed again.

"Right." Kirk said. "We are taking you back to the _Enterprise_ for questioning..."

"Oh, I don't think that will work." The man said.

"Why not?" Kirk said.

"Well, because I still need some pieces, as you can see," he looked down to the parts of him still afflicted with the virus, "and the two of you would be perfect donors! You even came to the venue yourselves! But the Vulcan will be done away with..."

Three giant Salthasian men entered the room. Kirk turned and fired a single shot into the chest of one man who fell to the ground dead. That was when the fight began.

***

Amata stood behind the glass in the transporter room with Scotty and a female technician she did not know.

"Don't worry about it, lass. They'll be fine." Scotty offered his support.

"You are sure?" she asked, unsure whether he was or not.

"Aye. The Cap'n always gets the crew out of these kinds of things safely." Scotty said, completely sure he was right.

Amata smiled weakly down at the Scottish man from where she stood roughly a head and a half taller than his seated figure.

"I really hope you're right." She responded quietly.

***

The fighting was over quickly.

Chekov lay in a semi-conscious heap by the far wall, Spock was incapacitated at the foot of the bed and Kirk was struggling after having been strapped to a gurney next to the man's bed. One of the huge men looked down at him.

"The Doctor will be with you shortly." Kirk almost laughed at the cliché line coming from the baritone man.

Sure enough, a tall hooded figure entered the room. He moved gracefully, and carried a loaded medical bag.

"Welcome, Doctor." The man in the bed said. The Doctor bowed in response.

"Well Mr. Kirk, this is unfortunately the end of the line." The man looked sideways at him.

"What are you planning?" Kirk said as he struggled against his bonds. Slowly he hit the 'on' button on his communicator.

"Well, considering you're all going to die it seems fair of me to tell you." The man said thoughtfully. "As you know from my colleague in your brig, I have loyal connections in the government. I plan to take over the government, with the help of my friends, and unify the Salthasian people. From there, we will unite the entire universe!"

"Why?"

"Because my dear boy! Genocide has killed far too many as of late, and we find it to be our job to end it. This is the only way!" The man said as though that part were obvious.

"What about education? Acceptance? Equality?" Kirk asked dumbfounded by this man's lack of, well, logic.

"It is overrated, Captain. Did Columbus accept the cannibals in the New World? No. Did equality matter to Hitler? No. Did education cease the horror caused by residential schools? No. Did genocide occur in Communist China? No! You see? Although Communism had it's flaws we can fix those flaws while uniting the universe and ending genocide!" The man seemed content with his logic.

Kirk had to grudgingly admit that he did understand the man's point of view, but that didn't mean it was the right one. Diversity was what made the Universe as appealing as it was. And Kirk wasn't going to allow this man to get away with his plan.

"I am having a change of heart, Doctor." The man said. "I think the Captain here should watch the work we do so he understands. Lassim, take the Russian."

One of the two remaining large men picked up Chekov and pinned him to the wall. Chekov let out a groan. Kirk thought he heard a small gasp on the other side of the communicator.

Lassim looked at the man in the bed.

"Kill him." The man said.

Lassim took a scalpel from the table next to the man and took it to Chekov's skull. "A little pain is good for the soul!" He said sadistically in his baritone as he began an incision in Chekov's skull.

Kirk never heard a man scream so loudly in his life. He looked on in horror as the young Ensign's scalp was being split by the hairline, blood trickling down his fair skin, seeping into his eyes and dripping onto his golden uniform.

Chekov screamed again, so loudly the jars on the shelves outside the room began to shake. Tears started to pour down his face.

Lassim laughed as he pulled the scalpel slower to enjoy his sick, sadistic, twisted entertainment.

A female voice sliced through the horror.

"Stop please, please! Dear God, stop…" Amata's voice flew through Kirk's communicator.

The man in the bed looked at Kirk's hip, where the sound came from, in shock.

"Amata…" the man said quietly.

"Dad, please! Please, stop it!" She breathed through what sounded like tears of her own on the opposite side of the communicator.

The man raised a finger to Lassim who stopped. Chekov was gasping in pain, barely able to express his pain with actual sound; only choked, stressed breaths.

"Amata," the man began, "your mother poisoned your mind. You cannot see the progress we are trying to make…"

"But you don't need to kill anyone else! We can cure you here…"

"Really?" The man's face lit up with curiosity, and then he snapped out of it. "We have begun, daughter, you wouldn't understand what you have interrupted…"

"Wouldn't I? Father, after you left I… I became a medical examiner." The man started. Kirk could have sworn he saw tears in the man's eyes.

"You… a pathologist…" he whispered. "Really, Amata? Did you really..?"

"Yes. Just like you." She said. Kirk understood her tactics; she was trying to reason with him. But the last statement through even Kirk for a loop.

"Yes… yes… just like… just like me…" Her father repeated. "Amata… I am so proud of you…"

Amata let out a small half hearted laugh. "I hoped you would be. Please, I understand what you are doing, and I am telling you this does not need to happen. We can fix you here, we can _help_ you here!"

The man's eyes turned dark. "No."

"Father…"

"No. The only '_help_' you will give me there is a straight jacket and tranquilizers." Kirk wasn't going to deny that one. Neither, it appeared, would Amata. "I must finish what I started."

Lassim took up the scalpel and Chekov whimpered in fear.


	9. The Last Time

"Father wait!" Amata pleaded. "What ever parts you want from Pash- Ensign Chekov, I will more than gladly give you!" She looked accidentally into the huge disbelieving eyes of Scotty beneath her. She clutched the communicator a little more tightly.

"Amata, listen to me…"

"No. You listen this time. You already tried to take my tongue, so obviously I am disposable to you. Take what you want from them from me." She said firmly. She believed her statement fully. She walked forward, past the glass and onto the transporter pad. Scotty shook his head 'no' and Amata countered with a 'yes' nod.

"Amata… my dear. You don't need to die for my cause. I want to show you what this Universe can be."

"That wasn't the case yesterday."

"Amata…"

"Scotty beam me out." Amata said.

"No." He firmly responded crossing his arms over his chest.

"Scotty the lives of those three officers are at stake! Beam. Me. Out." She said.

Scotty hesitated for a moment.

***

Kirk had been picking at his bonds for the last section of the disturbing conversation to no avail. His eyes never left poor Chekov who was still shaking under the looming knife. Lassim had thankfully waited with the scalpel for orders after the negotiations.

"Amata, this conversation is over." The man said he signalled the other large man to turn off the communicator and to Lassim to resume his murder.

As the second man was leaning over to shut off the communicator the Doctor reached towards the pile of phasers on the floor, drew one, and shot the man. He quickly turned to Lassim and shot him, subsequently sending the scalpel into the wall just inches from Chekov's face.

"Doctor! What are you doing?" the man did his best to holler at the hooded Doctor.

"Sorry." The Doctor removed his hood. "The Doctor isn't in right now."

Kirk marveled up at the figure before him. The Ambassador smiled down at the Captain and undid the bonds. Kirk jumped up and leaped over Spock's unconscious figure to Ensign Chekov.

Chekov looked up at the Ambassador past Kirk and gave the tall man a half-hearted thumbs up.

"You will not get out of here alive!" The man yelled holding a phial in the air. "This is an airborne poison, as soon as it is released you will die imminently." He dropped the phial to break it on the floor.

The Ambassador jumped over the bed and caught it before it hit the floor. There was a sickening crunch and the phial broke in the Ambassador's hand.

"Captain, get your men out of here!" the Ambassador shouted staying at the far end of the room so as to contain the poison.

Kirk grabbed his communicator, which was still on and yelled: "Kirk to _Enterprise_ get us out of her now!"

"You bet your ass, Cap'n!" Scotty yelled back frantically. "Transport in 3… 2… 1…"

The three men dematerialized from the hospital room, leaving behind the two dead men walking.

***

The second the men materialized in the transporter room, Bones burst in the door and both he and Amata rushed to the group.

Amata dropped to her knees by Chekov who was still in Kirk's arms. She took him from the Captain and did a visual analysis of the young man's head. He opened his eyes.

He could see her through the blood that had slipped between his eyelids and clouded his vision. She was still beautiful, even when she looked frazzled.

"Pasha?" She whispered, using the pet name he had never heard used on the Starship as of yet. "Please, say something to me…"

"I… I came… back…" he croaked, trying to contain the screaming he wanted to do.

After Bones had successfully revived Spock he turned to scan Chekov. Amata tried to put him on the floor but he protested.

"Don't… let… go…" he croaked emitting a small exclamation of pain.

"Amata? Amata?" A mechanized voice came from Kirk's hip. He pulled the communicator from his belt and handed it to her.

"Father…" she whispered.

"Amata." The Ambassador's voice floated through. "I need you to be strong. I will not be coming back, do you understand?" He gasped. The poison was taking effect so quickly…

"Yes, father. Thank you for saving them…" she said, trying to fit everything she wanted to say into the small amount of time they had left.

"Amata… I want you to know…" he gasped. "Kirk, take her with you, keep her safe…" he was dying fast.

The voice of Amata's real father came from the back. "You and I will die together old man…"

"Amata, I am so proud of you, I love you so much…" the Ambassador faded.

"I love you, too, Dad… Dad…" There was no reply.

***

Only twenty minutes had passed and everyone was in sick bay. Kirk, Spock, Chekov, Amata, Bones, even Scotty had joined to view the aftermath.

Kirk and Spock sat on two beds facing each other. They had been checked, and were found to be fine.

Bones was using a laser to stitch Chekov's face back to his scalp.

Amata sat on a bed at the far end of the room. Her face hadn't changed from it's devastated expression. Not a tear shed from her eye, not a sob racked her strong body.

"She has lost much, Jim." Spock said as sympathetically as a Vulcan could. His back faced Amata but he knew that her face hadn't changed.

"I know. I think I need to ask you a personal query, Spock." Kirk was still mildly sarcastic, even when he didn't try to be.

"Go on, Captain." Spock said, his expression not changing.

"There is no position on this ship that I can justify filling with her skills. The Ambassador wanted me to take her on the ship, but… I guess what I'm asking is: is there any way we can bring her with us?" Kirk was pained in his conflict. Starfleet would not smile on the situation.

"No, Captain." Spock turned to look at Doctor Amata Gerald. "No there is not."

***

Amata had been right. Her father had fixed the lab for her return. Every surface was polished and clean, ready to be used. All the destroyed shelves had been reassembled and restocked with fresh, un-contaminated equipment, a new computer waited at the desk.

It was just as beautiful and solitary as the old one, only it was new. A wonderful final gesture from the man she had lost.

She had spoken to Kirk that morning, back on the _Enterprise_ where she had stayed overnight to look after Ensign Chekov. He had told her that, as much as he wanted to honour her father's final wish, he could not, due to Starfleet regulations.

So, she thought, what did she have to lose? Doctor McCoy and Scotty: her fast friends. Spock: her last link to Solin. Captain Kirk: the only sensible human she had ever met. And Pavel. Pasha. She would lose the young man who was easily her intellectual equal… the only man she ever knew who kept his promises… her link to her mother's Russian heritage… the man she was, as much as she wished she could deny it for the memory of Solin, the man she was falling swiftly and undeniably in love with.

She was sad about not being able to go with the _Enterprise_ back to Earth, but she was glad as well. She preferred to live a private life. One with no emotional attachments. It was easier that way. Nothing to lose, which was certain.

She heard the door behind her open. Soft footsteps approached her and stopped maybe three feet back.

"Why did you come here?" She asked quietly.

"Because I vanted to see you before I left." The smooth Russian accent cut the silence.

She carefully turned around; deathly afraid to look into his eyes and never be able to let go.

Sure enough, when she looked into his blue eyes, she didn't want to let go.

"You cannot say you did not vant to see me as vell." He said looking at her like he knew it was true.

"I did."

He approached her and carefully wrapped his arms around her. She leaned her head against his skinny but strong chest. He put his chin on her hair and held her tightly.

"You know that I cannot come with you?" she asked quietly, placing her hand on the silver Starfleet patch on his uniform. She stroked it gently.

"_Da_. I know. I vish I didn't zough." He said. She felt his face convulse with the pain of the knowledge that this would be the last time they saw each other. Subconsciously she mimicked the motion.

In the heat of the moment he pulled back slightly and leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes and leaned back. He looked at her confused, although she could not see the look.

"This only makes the separation more difficult on both of us." She said, firmly planting both hands on his chest to cease his gentle advances.

He sighed, knowing it to be true. "But ve can't deny…"

"No, we can't." She opened her eyes and stepped back. He lowered his hands to her forearms and she did the same. "But we also can't deny that we will never see each other again. And that, should we choose to express our immediate affection; the separation will only be harder."

He looked at the ground and licked his lips. "Fine." He pulled her back into a hug. "But I get a hug."

"That, I will not deny you." She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, afraid to let go.

He looked down at her and kissed her forehead leaving his lips there.

She inhaled deeply through her nose and found the scent; musky, with a hint of diluted vodka. She smiled, but she felt like crying.

He pulled away and held her face in his hands. She looked at every part of him her eyes could reach, memorizing everything, although she knew she shouldn't. The door opened behind them and they separated, far too quickly for either of them.

Kirk, Spock and Bones all three entered.

"Doctor." Kirk nodded to her. "Ensign, we're all ready to leave."

The _Enterprise_ had landed last night to follow up on the incident of the previous evening. Everything had been cleared with Salthasian officials and all was ready for filing. The final culprits would be tracked down now that the Law Enforcement Units had the lair of the Scavengers. Starfleet would leave now, and they would have no reason to meet ever again.

"It was good to meet you, Amata." Bones shook her hand.

"The same to you, Doctor." Amata smiled at her friend.

"Thank you for all your work on the case, Amata, Starfleet and I are both eternally grateful." Kirk said in his most diplomatically affectionate tone.

"I am proud to have helped, Captain." Amata shook his hand as well.

"I will express my gratitude as well. You are an asset to your profession, and I wish you luck in your future endeavors." Spock said raising the Vulcan salute.

"The same to you commander." The young woman returned the gesture.

"It vas a pleasure vorking vith you, Amata." Chekov gave her another hug.

"The same to you, Pasha." She whispered in his ear.

The four men waved and left.

***

Amata ran as fast as her legs could carry her up the stairs to the roof of her father's building. She was only a floor away, she could hear the _Enterprise_ power up.

She burst through the door and ran to within four feet of the edge. She watched the giant ship leave the ground and float into the air. It was so loud.

She outstretched her arms and felt the wind as the massive vessel pulled away carrying her new friends with it.

As the ship disappeared into the atmosphere she caught in her nose the smell of musk, and a the light taste of diluted vodka that permeated her lips.

"Don't let go." She whispered into the wind.

***

_Author's Note_

_*Sniff sniff* Wow, that was amazingly fun to write! It began and ended so quickly… *sobs*_

_Alright. Next order of business: I am thinking of writing a sequel, but before I do I want to know whether anyone would actually read it or not… lend me your mind one way or the other, through a personal message or a review or something to let me know (I do accept anonymous reviews, by the way) whether you would read a sequel, because if you don't I probably won't write it and I'll just get on with other stuff I've got gestating. _

_Thank you to all the people who followed this story, your positive feedback really pushed the story ahead for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys are amazing!_

_Until next time!_

_Yours,_

_BlackMasquerade_


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